


The Soldier and the Runechild

by sabinelagrande



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Chroma Conclave Arc, M/M, POV Outsider, Unreliable Narrator, Zine: Folk Tales of Exandria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: A tale of Marquet.
Relationships: Shaun Gilmore/Jarett Howarth
Kudos: 27
Collections: Folk Tales of Exandria





	The Soldier and the Runechild

**Author's Note:**

> At long last, my entry from the Folk Tales of Exandria zine! I had a ton of fun writing this; I decided to do something a little different than my usual, and I really enjoyed doing it. Thanks to notalwaysweak and sparx for organizing it!

Attend this tale; open your ears and listen.

In Marquet, there lived a man, a man called Jarett. He was not a man of any status to speak of, and his life was one of the streets. Wrongfully accused, he fled Marquet, the land of his birth, and set out across the wild world to find his fortune.

First he found Othanzia, but there was nothing for him there. Then he found Wildemount, but there was nothing for him there. At last he arrived in Tal'Dorei, and he found Emon. 

There he found a merchant, another son of Marquet out to find his place in the world. The merchant's name, as we know now, was Geddmore, and he carried with him a secret. For he was no ordinary man; he was one of the rare and fabled few, a Runechild. In his blood ran an ancient and fearsome power, one sought after by sages and scholars, which left him a hunted man. But so great was his charm and his skill with words that few suspected he was anything but an ostentatious purveyor of goods; many were they who made the mistake of underestimating him.

Geddmore had in his care a group of mercenaries, Tal'Dorans known as Vox Machina, the Voice of the Machine. They were but fledglings, lacking the touch of the warrior, and Geddmore knew they needed aid.

"Oh, my friend," said Geddmore. "Take this task for me: shepherd these people. Give them what they need, and train them up. But you must act in secret, for they will cast you out if they know."

Vox Machina had installed themselves at a small keep, and Jarett began to follow Geddmore's charge. He came to them in disguise, dressed as a mercenary himself.

"I am but a guard," he told them. "I have two strong arms and naught else; will you allow me to defend you?"

The fledglings quickly agreed, being fresh and trusting, and quietly, Jarett cultivated their skills. He taught them to make their strikes true; he taught them to read a battlefield. He worked in secret, letting them believe they were his masters, not his students, and they hewed close to his teachings.

Vox Machina grew in stature in the city of Emon, but it was not to last. For there was another watching Tal'Dorei, a king of cinders, in the form of an enormous red dragon. Long was he imprisoned, able only to make his escape through the treachery of his draconic compatriots, and he emerged breathing fire and spreading desecration, from Othanzia to Wildemount to Tal'Dorei. Like a conqueror, he rode to Emon to make his foul residence there. Jarett knew then that they must flee, but his heart looked only for the merchant Geddmore.

Straight away he flew into the city, avoiding wyverns and agitators and coming upon the ruined shop. There he found Geddmore near death, having fought the Cinder King singlehanded, and carefully he carried the merchant back to the keep, defending him as he clung to life.

But fate is not always harsh, and Geddmore and Jarett escaped to Vox Machina's true home, Whitestone, whose name is carried now with the innovations of its tinkering lord. They were safe there, but defenseless, nothing to keep the dragons at bay.

It was then that the Runechild hatched his plan. He was weak and injured, but he would use his strong magicks to keep Whitestone safe. Each day he gave of himself, casting a barrier around the city to keep it secret. 

"Why do you do this?" Jarett asked him. "I fear it will kill you."

"I must protect what is important," Geddmore said. "I must protect what I treasure most."

But Jarett's ears were not open, and he did not hear the import of Geddmore's words. Instead he continued to work, keeping Whitestone safe and aiding Vox Machina in their fight.

They continued the struggle, but Jarett knew their time was running out. He knew the fight to keep the city secret would kill his love, and there was no other choice but to attack.

"I will go to Emon," he told Vox Machina. "And there I will kill the Cinder King."

"But you will not go alone," he heard from behind him, and he knew that Geddmore had overheard him.

"I must," Jarett insisted.

"You will not," the leader of Vox Machina said. "We will fight by your side."

Jarett tried to protest, but he saw then that this was why he was given Vox Machina to train; in his darkest hour, the fruits of his labor came to ripeness.

They prepared for the battle ahead, and Jarett went to Geddmore's rooms, hoping for one last chance to talk him into staying. Instead he found Geddmore dressing, his fine robes laid out around him, the scent of rich incense in the air.

"Will you stay?" Jarett asked.

"I could no more stay than lay down and die," Geddmore said. He placed a hand on Jarett's face. "And what of you? Will you stay?"

This time, Jarett's ears were open, and he heard his beloved's words for what they were.

In the morning, they rode forth to Emon, Jarett in the lead, with the Runechild beside him. Geddmore knew of the secret ways through the city, through his long study of it, and he guided them swiftly to the dragon's lair. As they entered, it smelled of fire and death, the heat so thick it made lines in the air. But Jarett and Geddmore were sons of Marquet, born of the baking desert, and their hearts stood firm.

The battle was fierce. The dragon attacked again and again, maneuvering swiftly through its own territory. Vox Machina fought bravely, but every time they failed, Jarett and Geddmore were there to fight the beast back.

They fought long and hard, and the members of Vox Machina began to fall, burned or slashed open by the dragon. And yet, so too did the King tire, harried so long by so much strength. He began to flag, and in his weakness, he became careless, revealing his soft underbelly for attack. Jarett saw his chance and darted in, sinking bolt after bolt into the dragon's hide. In its death throes, the Cinder King raked its claws across Jarett's chest, sundering his armor, and Jarett fell.

As the dragon collapsed, Geddmore ran his beloved, cradling his broken body. "My love," he said. "You cannot die. You are not dead. You must live; there is no other way."

Jarett saw before him Elysium, but with his last breaths, he heard the voice of the Runechild, which carries within it a powerful magic, as powerful as any cleric's touch. Strengthened, he pushed away from paradise, knowing his time was not done.

And fate was once again kind; the legion of dragons troubled Tal'Dorei no more, their leader slain with such fury that they turned away and fled into the other planes. Jarett and Geddmore returned to Whitestone, where they tended to each other's wounds. With their victory, they won a life for themselves, one free of interference and marked by love. They live out their days still, comfortable, secure, and ready to fight, these sons of Marquet in service to Tal'Dorei.

Can you say it happened another way?


End file.
